


Quelling Fury

by GuileandGall



Series: Violaceous Fury [7]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Reconciliation, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-05 00:10:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1087271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuileandGall/pseuds/GuileandGall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few months after waking up the Boss decides to take the chance of seeing the only other person she used to know before that fateful boat ride. Neither Troy, nor the Boss, know precisely what to expect from her surprise visit to the Detective's Bureau in the 31st Precinct.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quelling Fury

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Written for a SR Kink Meme prompt: fem!boss/Troy fem!boss (preferably latina) and troy have sex in his office sometime during/after the events of sr2. [ http://srkinkmeme.livejournal.com/583.html]. Oh and special whistles and cat calls to Chyrstis, who was the original filler on this post.
> 
> Disclaimer: Saint's Row belongs to THQ, Volition, and Deep Silver. I'm only playing with their universe. I do not own the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. I do it for the love of the game, the world, and the characters; and because they stuck with me long after I turned the game off (and back on, and off, ad infinitum).

 

**Quelled Fury**

****-1-** **

* * *

The knocking was almost insistent, and it was followed by a voice laced with concern. "Sir! Chief Bradshaw, is everything all right?"

"It's fine Zelda."

"Okay. Are you certain? I can call someone."

"I said, I'm fine," he replied back sharply, "Miss … Martinez and I just need to find a little common ground to work from." He used the name on the badge clipped to her jacket so as not to further rouse his secretary's concern or suspicion. Troy stared into the familiar eyes of the woman he had never expected to see again, at least not this close.

Her hazel eyes were a maelstrom of anger and hurt mixed with enough desire to confuse him as much as his own feelings. Troy wanted this chance for the past three years, he had dreamed about how this revelation would play out, and six months earlier, when she woke up, this confrontation seemed not only viable, but highly plausible. Julius Little's former second slipping out of custody surprised everyone but the Chief of Police. What did surprise him was her standing in his office, her coming to confront him  _here_ , of all places. That he couldn't have imagined.

The woman most people only knew as Furia, had always been bold, it was one of the reasons for the very apt nickname some of the guys had given her early on. She was the embodiment of ferocity and her capacity for violence and destruction matched that of their old friend, and her second-in-command, Johnny Gat. But waltzing into the Detective Bureau with credentials from the DA's office was beyond even her typical tactics. It made him nervous and curious, set him on his guard and made his need to know why she had taken the risk nearly unbearable.

Chief Bradshaw leaned over her, hands, on either side of her head, pressing against the door's mahogany paneling. His gaze did not waver, despite the waffling going on in his head. His hands itched to touch her, just once more, though he honestly expected her to lay him out at any moment. Uncertain if it was inspired by bravery, stupidity, or some combination of the two, he took a chance. Something in him needed a response, even a violent decisive one.

Swallowing against the tightness in his throat, Troy trailed the backs of his fingers over her cheek. When her breath hitched, he cupped her face, his thumb grazing the little caramel scar on her cheekbone near her eye as he witnessed the anger in her eyes flicker and cool into something more familiar, something more perplexing.

Her eyes closed and she tilted her face into his hand. It was a movement so subtle and so striking that he responded instinctually. Closing the distance between them the tightness in his chest made it hard to breathe until he brushed his lips against hers. But when he felt her tense in response, Troy pulled away. The confusion in the look she gave him spoke volumes.

"I've missed you," he admitted.

A sudden constriction of relief washed over him with her response. The sharp sting along his spine, as his back hit the door, wasn't the only thing that knocked the air from his lungs. Furia held his face gently as she kissed him with an intensity he could barely recall.

Her body molded to his in familiar ways that made him dizzy. Tentatively he inched his arms around her, waiting for the dream to turn into one of his nightmares. When she allowed him to encircle her in his arms, he couldn't help but sigh as he squeezed her tightly. He broke the kiss and buried his face in her neck, inhaling the warm scent of her skin. The comfort of her arms wrapped as tightly around him as his were around her overwhelmed his senses.

 _This_. Her in his arms was not in any of the scenarios he had considered for this encounter in the last six months. Though he had dreamed about just this sort of response enough in the past few years, he was never naïve enough to think it could actually play out this way. The Chief of Police was prepared for a violent confrontation, or a murderous one.

"Troy," she breathed lightly.

He sighed in response to hearing his name in her melodic trilling voice. The tone she used was the one she reserved for when they were alone-a little lower than her normal register and smooth as a ribbon of honey. The little purr of the R brought his lips to her neck before he lifted his head and looked down at her. They stared at each other a moment, struggling to read one another; it used to be so easy. In a glance he knew precisely what he wanted from this chance; but maybe that was the hitch, neither of them could be sure what they wanted from the other, what it was fair to want now that there was a bold blue line between them.

_Fuck the line._

His embrace tightened around her and she fit easily against him again, just like she always had. The tailored suit jacket hit the floor quickly, before Troy set to work against the buttons of the white silk blouse. The quiver in her breathing suggested she was as caught up as he was, but she gripped his shoulders tightly and pressed her forehead against his chest.

"Despacio, Troy," she muttered, trying to calm herself. When she looked up at him finally, the control she tried to exert over herself was visible and pained him. "We made this mistake once already," she muttered, barely convincing herself, let alone him.

The admission suggested she was equally unprepared for the reality of what was unfolding in his office. His eyes searched hers as he considered what she said. Getting involved with her had been a risk. One friend of his even ventured to call it stupid, though Bradshaw had never seen it that way. And he didn't agree with Furia's assessment either.

"I never saw our relationship as a mistake."

Furia tilted her head at him. He could tell he was challenging her assumptions, making this harder for her, making it harder for her to just walk away. Even though he knew it would be easier for both of them, he didn't want that-not if there could be another option.

"You're a cop," she accused. Her eyes moved to her hands, which still rested on his chest. "And I'm … me," she said with a smirk and a little shrug, as she took a step back.

Troy rubbed his hands along her back, trying to pull her back toward him, then clasped his hands around her waist. "It doesn't matter. Never did."

"How can you say that?"

He did not stop her as she slipped out of his grip. She walked back across the room, tugging at her shirt modestly as she crossed her arms over her chest. Troy leaned against the door and when she stopped, he slipped his hand behind him and slid the bolt she had locked when she entered. This was not a conversation he wanted interrupted, not if she was willing to have it.

"Two years is a long time to weigh one's options and priorities," he admitted.

Slow and measured steps carried him toward her. Furia didn't look at him; Troy didn't mind. For him it had always been easier to say these types of things when she was unconscious. He hoped it would be just as easy with her back turned on him.

"I visited you."

No response.

"Not as often as I should have, but as much as I could manage. I always made sure to bring Gerbera Daisies," he mused with a wistful little grin cast down at his hands. "I remembered you saying they were your favorites. Every time, I begged you to wake up, even if it was just to kick my ass for not telling you everything."

Furia glanced at him over her shoulder. He could see it: hurt, confusion, pain, tenderness. He shook his head thinking the last one surely had to be his imagination or wishful thinking.

"I never lied to you about anything. I just couldn't tell you everything," he said in an attempt to explain. "I tried to tell you once, just before-" He took a step forward and she took a step back in response. Balling up the hand he had reached toward her with, he tucked it in his pocket. "I had convinced you to let me take you out to that place downtown. We'd been there for what thirty minutes before Johnny called, then Dex, and it just all went to hell."

"I remember," Furia muttered.

Troy slipped into the chair a few steps from her and looked up at her. "I had it all planned. I even had a speech."

The laugh was light and the smile lit her eyes. "You wrote a speech to tell me you were a cop?"

He ran his hands through his much shorter hair. "Kind of. But it wasn't just to tell you about that," he stated.

She squeezed herself, trying to offer herself the comfort Troy wanted to provide her with.

"Do you want to hear it?"

"No." Her answer was short and clipped as she turned away.

He pulled his billfold out of his pocket and dug out the napkin he carried with him since the night he wrote it. He laughed when he unfolded it, two sets of handwriting, words and whole lines scratched out and written over-Johnny had helped him craft part of it, the part that mattered the most. The cop part, Troy had planned to tack on and beg her to overlook.

"I always sucked at this," he told the worn, but somehow still intact, napkin in his hands.

"You wrote it down on a napkin from Tee-N-Ay?"

He laughed lightly and looked up at her. "I had an epiphany halfway through a bottle of tequila. You work with what you've got handy. Hell, Johnny and I went through a stack of napkins. I think we pissed that bartender off. I'm still surprised they didn't throw us out."

"You and Johnny?"

"He didn't always want my head on a platter," Troy reminded her. The two of them used to be pretty close, in part because of her.

Her fingertips grazed his forehead lightly and he looked up at her as her caress moved along his jaw. "Why are you fighting the inevitable?"

Troy stood, letting one hand rest on her waist as he held her gaze. "I've spent two years hoping for a miracle. Why not try my luck and hold out for another one?"

"This can't work. You're the Chief of Police. And I'm … me. I'm not going to sit back. The Saints never left, they just went on vacation. And we're taking Stilwater back."

He looked at her for a long time. "I don't care. Work is work. You and your boys do what you have to. Me and mine will do what we have to. But I don't fucking care about any of that right now. I want a chance. I just want you."

Furia grazed his neck lightly with her fingers, letting them play at the hollow in his throat, accessible at his unbuttoned collar. "Just me, huh?"

"I'm not promising you anything beyond us. No police support. No looking the other way."

She smiled at the challenge. "No get out of jail free card?"

"Nope," the Chief agreed with a determined little shake of his head.

"Just you?"

"That's all I can offer," he conceded.

Her fingers toyed with the knot of his tie. It was a cheap uniform tie, but she was carefully maneuvering it as she considered what was on the table. His entire body ached from the tension that rose by the second.

"I can't offer anything more than that either," she pointed out with a quick professional glance up from his loosened tie.

"I'm not looking for anything else."

"No one can know," Furia added, pulling the tie out of his collar.

"Like anyone would believe me if I told them," Troy quipped, pulling her a little closer.

The boss leaned away from him, hazel eyes searching his. "You're sure?"

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life," he volunteered, crushing her lips to his own.

Her hands slipped around his neck and held on tightly as they kissed. His hands moved quickly, peeling away her blouse to plant kisses down her neck and over her shoulder. Fumbling at her waist, the chief blindly searched for the zipper, dragging it down then pushing away the sheath of fabric. He pressed her hips against the desk, kissing and kneading her breasts when the intercom chirped. They both froze like they'd been caught in the act.

"Sir, the commissioner is on line three. He says it's urgent," the grating voice announced.

"Sonuvabitch," Troy muttered. He quickly set his finger over Furia's lips when she started to say something. "I have to take this," he whispered in her ear.

 

  
****-2-** **

* * *

Chief Bradshaw rounded the desk so quickly he never even noticed her smirk. She knew she had to be out of her mind, but there had always been something about Troy that she just couldn't resist. She had not been able to put a finger on it before, and looking around his office that just screamed COP! the boss still couldn't pinpoint a reason to take this kind of risk. Other than that he was precisely what she wanted.

Glancing over her shoulder she eyed him. That purposeful gleam crept back into his eyes, despite the fact that her tongue had just been in his mouth. He had always been able to shift gears rather quickly.

"Not a word," he urged as he reached for the phone and stabbed at the blinking light.

She had no intention of  _saying_  anything. But Furia did have another idea, and she knew he wouldn't be able to argue… much with his superior on the line.

"Afternoon, sir," Troy greeted as she rounded the desk and pressed him into his chair. He looked at her and shook his head with a discouraging sternness in his eyes.

The answering grin and the playful raise of her eyebrows made his brow crease as she slipped up onto the edge of the desk, perching herself on his blotter. She bit her lip and pulled the clip out of her hair, letting the ebony waves cascade over her shoulders. Then she kicked off her heels and set her feet on his knees. His eyes flicked downward and were glued to the movement of her hands along her thighs though he nodded at the man on the other end of the phone.

The movement of his Adam's apple curled her lips a little more devilishly.

"I'm aware of how Michelson's actions are being portrayed in the press but they have no bearing on the case," Troy replied to an accusation she could care less about.

His voice cracked on the last word as her foot stroked him through the polyester slacks. She grinned when he grabbed her ankle and glared at her. She pointed her toes in a defiant effort to tease him again, but he kept her out of reach.

"Yes, he's on a desk. IA is still conducting their investigation."

When he loosed her foot, she let them dangle from the desk as she watched the chief as he ran his hand over his forehead. She could hear the commissioner's voice through the phone and the man didn't sound pleased. Judging from Troy's reaction this was not going to be a short call. A little silent hop off the desk and she curled herself up in his lap. Troy's fingers glided along her back as Furia stroked his jaw and neck lightly before she turned her attention to the buttons of his shirt.

Sucking at his earlobe lightly she decided to up the ante. He had always been a sucker for her voice, or at least that's what he said. One way she had always managed to get his goad was by whispering in his ear in Spanish, even though he barely understood a word of it. Once she had almost made him come with a grocery list. But she decided that this time, she would make it a little more fun.

He leaned away from her slightly as she ran the tip of her tongue along the shell of his ear. "Te he echado mucho," she whispered languidly. She felt his jaw clinch under her lips as she planted a soft little kiss there.

"Todo sobre ti me enciende. Te necessito."

She smiled when he dragged his nails lightly down her shoulder.  _If he knew what I was saying he'd have hung up the phone by now, Commissioner be damned,_  she thought as she nuzzled his ear. "Tocame, Troy." She drew out his name, drawing out the roll in her Rs, which brought his eyes to hers. "Quiero hacerte el amor."

"I'm aware that the depositions begin next week," he noted through clinched teeth.

"Quiero que me hagas gritar su nombre," she admitted truthfully, as she glided off his lap. Unabashedly, she planted quiet little kisses over the field of his cotton undershirt, pausing just once to bite his nipple.

Troy grabbed the back of her neck quickly. His eyes were a mix of passion and frustration that turned her on. Holding the phone at arm's length, he pulled her mouth to his and kissed her hard.

"Behave," he grunted lowly.

"Never," Furia murmured with a tilt of her head.

They both heard the commissioner yell, "Bradshaw!" through the phone. She grinned and winked at him as he reluctantly put the receiver back to his ear.

"Yes, sir. I'm still here," the chief lied as he sat back again. "Yes. I'm aware of how this makes the department look. But we can't rush this type of thing."

He swatted at her hands once he heard the jingle of his undone belt buckle. "No," he mouthed at her.

She just beamed at him. And he mouthed her name with a sharp glare, which she responded to defiantly by dropping his zipper. Trying to escape, Troy pushed his chair back and it banged against the credenza behind the desk.

"It's nothing, sir. Sorry. Yes, I think the DA's right on this one. We really need to get a proper investigation of the matter before we start making any statements to the press."

He batted at her hands trying to keep her from her prize, but she was quicker than he was. Apparently two years in a coma had done less to dull her reflexes, than his two years behind a desk had his.

"They might be amenable to a plea bargain. But I think-"

Troy's whole body froze when she placed a sweet little kiss on the head of his cock. Then came the slow teasing stroke of her tongue up the length of the shaft before she lowered her head, the second stroke was when things seemed to restart for him.

"I think … as does the DA's office, that any deal … any deal we make is going to require the severing of Michelson … and probably Briggs as well."

Furia could not help but grin at the fact that he was unable look at her. Troy had his head pressed against the chair with his free hand resting over his eyes as he tried to keep some semblance of composure. She moved down and up again, pressing her tongue hard against him with each stroke. Alternating this with teasing swirls and licks, she tried to distract him from the inanity of the phone call. When his free hand slipped into her hair, she looked up at him and his eyes met hers pleading for a little mercy.

Mercy had never really been her forte, but the look almost worked on her. Furia considered the option and opted to ease up.  _It had been two years, and he might be out of practice_ , she thought as she skimmed the head just barely with her teeth. He hissed quietly through his tight jaw and managed to play it off.

"Tsss. I'm not sure Michelson will agree to a resignation," he said, trying his damnedest not to breathe too heavily. He fisted his hand in her hair and held her tightly to gain a moment of reprieve.

"I give," she replied, holding up her hands in mock surrender.

His eyes suggested he didn't believe her, but he released her anyway certain there was little payback he could render with the commissioner on the phone.

The boss decided to play a little bit nice, standing in a quick smooth motion and taking a few steps back, she wiggled her hips at him. She wanted the phone call to be over, and she knew one surefire way to make it happen.

As if Troy had sensed her thoughts, he stood and his hand joined hers on her hips, encouraging the motion. It surprised her, but not as much as when the chief dragged his fingers across his tongue as he gave her a determined smirk, but she grabbed his wrist before he could set about his task.

Furia only paused his attempt at pay back only long enough to tantalize. Holding his hand she kissed the heel of his palm then continued a slow path toward his fingertips. Her tongue teased at the tip of his middle finger, then sucked at it lightly. He was all but panting when she let him slip another finger into his mouth. Content that she had turned his intended retaliation quite far enough against him, she released his wrist.

His gaze was lusty and dark, it gnawed at her in a pleasurable way that intensified when his hand slithered between her thighs. Delicate little strokes teased at her excited flesh as he summarized the various witness statements against the detective they had been discussing. His eyes never left hers as he touched her with just the right amount of pressure to make her wanton, but not hot enough to get too vocal, yet.

There was something palpable in his presence; she was drawn into his gaze by that strong force that seemed to swirl about him. She had always felt drawn toward Troy Bradshaw. When he leaned her against the desk, awkwardly cradling the phone between his cheek and his shoulder, he undid her bra, causing her to shiver against him. This garnered another little grin and she rubbed her hips against him in response. Troy pressed against her in response, rather than pushing her away. His erection blazed hot against her flesh as he kept her close.

One hand went back to the phone, while she held onto his waist and leaned against his chest, savoring the closeness and his touch. She had missed him, all of him-the heat, the gentleness, the hungry way he looked at her, the comforting caresses, the sex.  _That_  they had always good at, she recalled as she tried to keep herself quiet.

"No, we're not expecting retaliation. If it was going to happen, it would have started already, though it is likely that we'll have some civil unrest," Troy predicted as his finger circled her again.

 

  
****-3-** **

* * *

Furia was exactly as he remembered. The number of phone conversations he had been forced to have with her mouth around his cock prepared him to deal with that little distraction, mostly. Even with experience, it was still hard as hell to control himself, which he knew was the entire point. She loved to fluster him. Though she had put in a little extra effort this time, and still was. Every time she rolled her hips against him as he teased her it was all he could do to not groan in the commissioner's ear.

"Zelda's got everything compiled already. Including the statements the DA sent over. I'll have her messenger it to your house before the weekend so you can have a head's up for your deposition Monday, sir."

Her body shuddered as he slipped a finger into her. The choked little whimper made him grin like a Cheshire cat, as he continued to stroke her. Troy really only lamented the fact that the damn phone kept him limited to one hand.

"Not a problem at all, sir. I'll let her know. And you'll have it before Monday. Have a good weekend. Bye."

He slammed the phone on the hook. "Goddamn that man can ramble." Then Troy leaned against her more fully, pressing himself against her distracting little wiggle. He kissed her ferociously as he leaned her against the edge of the desk, his hand still teasing at the apex of her thighs. "And you," he growled, looking down at her scoldingly.

"Don't worry. I doubt he'd fire you for getting a little head while on the phone." She shrugged one bare shoulder at him and Troy leaned forward and bit it, making her giggle. "Así … he'd probably give you a commendation."

The breathy sigh made him smile against her collarbone as he kissed and nipped at her skin.

"íAjá! I could see that now," Furia teased.

The chief directed some of his attention to her breasts, which brought her hands encouragingly to his head as she exhaled raggedly.

"Little blue ribbon. Medallion cast in bronze with perfectly O-shaped lips." Her suggestion disappeared into a deep hissing inhalation of breath as he slid a second finger into her. Gripping the edge of the desk, she leaned more heavily on that hand to steady herself.

"You're not the only one with a good memory," he drawled against her lips as he kissed her.

She was breathless, when the kiss broke. "Sí. But are you still a boy scout?"

Her voice dripped with longing; Troy felt it to-that building powerful need. He didn't know if he had a condom, but he thought there might be one, somewhere.  _God, let there be one in this damn desk_ , he thought as he yanked open the first drawer. The craze made his head spin as he tugged open one drawer then another. By the time he shooed her over a step to get the middle drawer she was helping him.

"Oye, guapo. Do I even want to know why this is in your desk drawer?" she trilled, shaking the foil wrapper at him.

"Isn't it obvious?" Troy pulled her to him again and dragged her thong down her legs.

That lascivious smirk made him ache. She held the package in her teeth, as she helped him haul off his shirts. Then she leaned against his desk, her hands slithered between them. He groaned against her touch, gentle and firm strokes before sheathed him. He wrapped and arm around her waist and planted her on the desk as she guided him into her.

He tugged her hips toward him as she wrapped her legs around his waist. The driving rhythm he set was demanding from them both. Memory didn't fail him either-her sharp little breaths and her nails digging into his shoulder told him she was right there with him. He knew the signs: the flutter of her eyelids, the claiming kisses, but when she pressed her forehead to his with her hands laced behind his neck, he knew she was at the edge. The long sharp strokes that pushed her past the precipice, took him with her; their bodies moving in tandem as they restaked a lost claim.

Nothing else mattered in that moment. Not purple. Not blue. She was in his arms, and her arms were around him. Troy Bradshaw had spent two years hoping to find a way back to that place. His mouth met hers passionately as cradled her against him. He was damn sure going to hold onto her as long as he could.


End file.
